


She Walks the Path of a Ghost

by TheDarknessFactor



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, NOTD spoilers, post-TATM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 11:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarknessFactor/pseuds/TheDarknessFactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of recordings leads River to a kindred spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Walks the Path of a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> So, um... my first fic on this site! How exciting. 
> 
> Inspiration came from listening to the Four Knocks soundtrack over and over again (if you want to feel angsty, then I recommend it). I think I was going to write it to make myself feel better, but then it turned into... this. Why do I do these things to myself?

The first recording was in Casablanca, Morocco.

River had thought it odd that there was a 46th century holochip being sold at a vendor, considering it was the 19th century and television hadn’t even been invented yet. She bought it, intent on heading back to the inn to analyze it right away. Unfortunately, she was held up by some Djaquiri— sand alien pirates who had been marooned by their captain— and didn’t arrive until well after the sun had set. Sweaty and exhausted, she wished for nothing more than a shower. Unfortunately, she wasn’t quite ready to leave this time period yet.

After hooking up the chip to her tablet, she began playback.

“Salutations, greetings, whatever you like. I’d prefer to skip the formalities, but at the same time, I don’t exactly want the person listening to shut this off if they’re offended. Apologies in advance; as my husband is so often reminding me, my attitude is rather caustic.”

River grinned. Whoever this woman was, she liked her.

The screen was a bit fuzzy, but she was able to see that the woman had brown hair done up elaborately. Her clothes were a bit more on the simple side: a red tunic beneath a gray jacket. Her eyes were a clear blue. That was all River could ascertain, as the woman’s lower half was hidden from view.

“Thinks he’s so clever, that one,” said the woman. Her tone was a familiar one: half-exasperated, half-affectionate. “He believes he’s the only one who goes gallivanting around the universe. Well, here’s something that’ll baffle him: I rather like Morocco. Do you like Morocco, dear? You didn’t even know that I’ve been here, did you?

“So that’s what I’m doing: proving him wrong.”

“Well, you’ve done an excellent job of that thus far,” River murmured.

“I have, haven’t I?”

River instantly froze. She stared at the screen, where the woman appeared to be smirking right at her. It couldn’t— but she dismissed that notion, because she wouldn’t be this stupid. She flung herself at her bag to grab a sheet of paper and a pen, scribbling down only what she’d said; she could record the woman’s words later.

“You’re reading from a transcript, aren’t you?”

“Correct!” The woman beamed. “Judging by what I’ve read of you, you’re very clever. And you’re the exact person that I need to contact, now that I think about it.”

River raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t think this through?”

“Why would I? _He_ certainly doesn’t.”

River laughed quietly at that. She couldn’t exactly say that this was the strangest situation that she’d found herself in, but it was certainly… interesting.

“Well it’s quite rude to surprise a girl with a conversation and then not introduce yourself,” she admonished.

The woman smiled sadly. “Ah. My apologies, but I’m afraid you aren’t meant to know that, River Song. If it’s any consolation, I don’t know much about you, either. Just your name, as well as a few other things. But… you may call me Syreen. It was my nickname when I was younger. It’s a pleasure— no, a privilege.”

“Likewise,” River replied. She was surprised; why would Syreen consider it a privilege to meet her?

“Fancy a little scavenger hunt, Professor?”

River felt her lips curving into a smile. “You have my attention.”

Syreen grinned. “I knew it couldn’t be anything other than yes.”

“Of course you did,” River snorted. “You’re reading it.”

“Yes, but _you_ aren’t,” replied Syreen. “And I think sometimes people forget how much of a choice that they do have. You might’ve said no— and then I’d just be a mere recording, not a mysterious woman, holding an actual conversation with you. I am right, I think, when I say that you lost your parents recently?”

River felt her throat close up; the reminder was like being doused in icy water. It really was remarkable how human she was in moments like these, when it felt as though she’d left her right heart back in New York. She never really did have time to properly grieve for them. There was the Doctor and he _needed_ her, and then there was work and a wonderful young woman named Anita who she was starting to think of as the daughter she’d never had. Having someone to care for helped in its own way, but there were times when she wished she could sob like a child.

“My condolences,” said Syreen. “My own parents were never particularly close to me, and my mother-in-law has never been that fond. But my spouse would understand your pain.”

River clenched her fists and brought her breathing under control. “You said something about a scavenger hunt?”

“I believe I did,” the other woman hummed. “Alright. So, the first clue is…”

***  
It didn’t take long for River to find the Oodsphere. ‘Where the song never ends’ could have had many meanings— New Earth, the year five billion, or Haydron 7, where there was always a choir to sing children to sleep. River had considered going to the Singing Towers, but found a note among her things saying, _Not there. Not now._

The handwriting wasn’t any she recognized, but she had a feeling she knew exactly who it was from.

She appeared in a blast of static and snow, far above the crystalline structures that the Ood had built. She knew the stories: stories of the Doctor and Donna, who had freed the Ood from slavery. River had taken part in one of the later revolutions, on a planet not quite so willing to give up their Ood slaves.

The Ood song filled her mind at once. It was like being in the TARDIS again and she smiled, her mind singing out a response. Several curious eyes were already turned towards her; some held their hindbrains, as it should’ve been, while others still had the translation spheres. Not too much longer after the revolution, then.

One of them approached her, and it wasn’t too hard to recognize the symbol on his shirt. She bowed her head at him. “Ood Sigma, I presume?”

“That is correct,” he replied. River could hear both his spoken response and his confirmation in her mind. “We have been told to expect you, Melody Pond.”

He dropped a holochip into her hand; she tucked it into her coat.

“Would you like to stay?” Ood Sigma asked. “We welcome your song here.”

River’s first instinct was to refuse, but she had to remind herself that sometimes, the journey was more important than the destination.  
“I think I will, thank you. For a little while.”

***

As it turned out, joining the Ood song did her a world of good.

It was hard to hide anything when communicating with the mind, and it didn’t take long before hers was singing with grief. The Ood joined her, mourning for Amy and Rory even though only one of them had ever encountered them, and that particular Ood had been reduced to atoms by the TARDIS. It wasn’t long, however, before the song turned to joy— celebrating the amazing lives that her parents had led, all the things they accomplished. The Girl Who Waited and the Last Centurion.

It became much harder to leave after that, but near the end of the song she sensed an all-too-familiar presence join in. She heard his own not-quite-as-raw grief, his love for Amy and Rory, and his love for her.

He took her hand and led her back to the TARDIS, giving her just enough time to tell the Ood goodbye. She promised to visit again, and felt slightly mournful at the loss of contact when they entered the TARDIS. Soon, though, the ship’s own hum filled her instead. Never had she been more grateful for her second mother.

“I could hear you,” he said, once they were parked in the Vortex. “All the way across the universe, I could hear you.”

River heard the TARDIS clamor a bit.

He rolled his eyes. “And Sexy helped track it, too.”

She smiled and gave him a proper greeting, angling her mouth against his to stroke her tongue along the roof of his mouth. He was pouting when she pulled away.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said. “I’ve got something to take care of first.” When his eyes narrowed in suspicion, she sighed. “Mind out of the gutter, sweetie. Besides, you don’t really think I’d start without you, do you?”

“Oi!” he exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you keep in your bedside table drawer! And besides, how am I supposed to help it when you’re being all deep-voiced and when our minds were literally singing at each other a few minutes ago— it’s all very romantic, don’t you think?”

She kissed his cheek. “You’re doing better. I’m glad.”

The Doctor’s smile faded a bit at that. “You weren’t,” he murmured. “Did they help? The Ood, I mean.”

“I know what you mean, sweetie,” River said. “And yes, they did. It was… cleansing, in a way.”

Hopefully, the chip in her pocket would be, too. She was itching to see what Syreen had to say this time, so she told the Doctor to be more patient while she went to her room to watch it. Ordinarily she would’ve retired to their room instead, but she felt that the videos from Syreen required a measure of privacy.

She looked just the same as before. “Feeling any different?”

“Immensely improved, thank you,” River responded. “How are you? Still in the same place?”

“Yes. I took the liberty of recording all the videos at once. I just happened to deliver them to different places.”

“’Happened to’,” said River dryly. “You wouldn’t by any chance mean, ‘were instructed to’, would you?”

Syreen threw her hands up in mock surrender. Her picture was a bit clearer this time, and River could see that she really was beautiful. There was a classic elegance to her that befit a woman who spoke with the lilt she had.

“You already know the answer to that,” Syreen said. “But it does happen that all the places I delivered them to are favorites of mine, so it was wonderful to be able to visit them all the same. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this conversation a bit short, however.”

River nodded, then remembered the Syreen couldn’t see her. “Alright.”

“It was lovely to speak to you again. Your next clue is—“

***

_—Asgard is number ten._

River didn’t realize what it meant until it was too late. Until she was lying beside a man who barely knew her and couldn’t seem to look at her without immense pain in his eyes. One of the locals had put up the holochip she needed as a prize for the local wrestling competition. River, not one for something as inelegant as wrestling, opted to simply steal it instead— the result of which was multitudes of angry Asgardians pelting after her, raising their axes and hollering.

Then the Doctor was running next to her, shouting something about a collapsed mine that they immediately detoured towards. Her help in rescuing the workers got the townspeople to forgive her for her transgression, with them all saying that she deserved the chip anyway. She and the Doctor joined in the festivities, celebrating the successful rescue of all the workers.

Ordinarily, she would’ve been smiling; it was an ‘everybody lives’ day, which was always cause for a smile. But it was soured by the fact that her husband knew next to nothing about her— just her name, and that apparently she was going to have darker hair in the future. It made her hate him a bit, and not just because she was going to have to dye her curls to keep the timelines intact.

Syreen didn’t have much to say this time. She just looked at River with overwhelming compassion and said, “I am so, so sorry.”

And it was so heartbreakingly familiar that River had to switch it off.

***

The fourth she got from Clara Oswald.

“There was this woman,” she said hesitatingly. She pressed the chip into River’s hand a bit too hard, biting her lip. “She said you’d need this.”

River knew she had to leave quickly. The way Clara was looking at her— it was the way she herself would look at Amy and Rory if she ran into their past selves. There was a danger of spoilers here, and judging by the look on the girl’s face, she didn’t want to know.

Clara had gone through something, recently. The Doctor wouldn’t tell her exactly what it was, but she knew it had to have been big, because Clara’s eyes were far too old. Older than Rory’s, maybe even older than the Doctor’s. Certainly older than her own. It made her want to gather the girl into her arms and whisper that it would be alright, because often it was those who were the oldest who needed comfort.

Before she could finish keying the coordinates into her Vortex Manipulator to get away, though, Clara grabbed her arm.

“I knew her,” she said, eyes wild. “I _knew_ her.”

River gently prized her arm out of Clara’s grip. She placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders and said, “Is there any way I can help?”

Clearly taken aback by the unexpected question, she shook her head wordlessly. River pulled her into a hug anyway, smoothing her hands across her back. She couldn’t stay for long, however, since the sound of the TARDIS’ engines was beginning to echo around them. Wordlessly, she kissed Clara’s forehead, waved goodbye, and disappeared.

Syreen had the same thing to say. “I knew her. It shouldn’t have been possible, but I did. And this is strange to say, because whoever it is I haven’t actually met her yet.”

“She said that too,” replied River. “And I don’t know the full story as of now, but it has something to do with my husband. The Doctor. I haven’t gotten a chance to tell you about him, have I?”

Syreen shook her head wordlessly.

So River told her: everything she felt, everything she and her husband had shared. It all came pouring out. It was rather like visiting the Ood again; she felt strangely clean afterwards, as though she had rid herself of some poison sitting in her system. She spoke of all the things she loved about him. She spoke of all the things that caused her pain— his initial mistrust, the timey-wimey-ness of their relationship.

“But I wouldn’t trade that man for that universe,” she said.

Syreen smiled. “He sounds a lot like my husband. I act like I only just put up with, but I can’t imagine a life without him. Though I don’t know that I have to, considering how long he’s been away.”

They continued to speak in that way for hours, griping and reminiscing and laughing until they cried.

***

The last one arrived attached to the copy of Melody Malone that Amy sent her after publishing it. There was a note with it, but it wasn’t from her mother (she ignored the pang at this). It was written in the same handwriting as the other she’d found.

_Leave the chips on a table in the TARDIS library immediately after Darillium._

For some reason, this one had a sense of finality about it. River’s fingers were trembling as she fitted it into the slot on her tablet. Syreen looked the same as ever, but there was a tinge sadness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Hello, Professor Song,” she greeted. “This is the last of the chips, I’m afraid. I wanted to record this a while after the rest when I saw what was on the transcript. I’m not feeling particularly well today; did you know that on their last regenerations, Time Lords age just like humans do?”

River felt like she had been punched in the gut. She should have _known_.

“He left such a long time ago,” murmured Syreen. “Stole away my granddaughter in order to show her the universe. It was only a few days after I regenerated for the last time. I don’t delude myself into thinking he’s ever going to come back, because I know him.”

River could only shake her head.

“I’ve had to create something of a life for myself, River,” sighed Syreen. “I’ve taken up gardening. Turned every unused room in our residence into a greenhouse, if I can. Even his study, because I’m very well not going to keep it for him when he isn’t returning. I have some consolation in the fact that our children still visit me from time to time. I see him in them. But, though I hate to admit it, some days I wish he would come to see me. To at least say goodbye, if nothing else. But you and I, we know what this means. We know why.”

“He doesn’t like endings,” River murmured. Tears were silently slipping down her cheeks, but she paid them no mind.

Syreen let out a shaky breath. “Ever since I received the folder, I’ve prayed every day that he doesn’t make the same mistakes with you. That he doesn’t carry your ghost with him in order to stave off the pain of a proper goodbye. And if he does do all that, then for your own sake, make him acknowledge you.”

“I have to hide the damage,” whispered River.

“We’re allowed this selfishness,” countered Syreen. “We’re married to _him_ , after all. One day, he needs to realize that it hurts just as much for us to say goodbye as it does for him.”

***

_“If you ever loved me, say it like you’re going to come back.”_

_“Well then… see you around, Professor River Song.”_

***

When the folder containing complete transcripts and instructions was delivered to London, England, Earth, 1965, a small note had been added. It wasn’t written by River Song or Syreen.

_Goodbye, my love. And I’m sorry._


End file.
